


Bits and pieces

by stupid_drawings



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drabble Collection, Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-30
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-11-27 11:46:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/661647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stupid_drawings/pseuds/stupid_drawings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is going to be a collection of BBC Sherlock drabbles and smaller fics that seem too short for me to post as separate stories. I will add tags and warnings as they come up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. At the Museum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I looked through all the London Natural History Museum maps and couldn't quite tell if there are mummies, but it's a natural history museum, they've got to have mummies, right? If there aren't, just count these mummies as dead original characters, idk.

John and Sherlock sat on the sofa together, reading, their hands gently entwined.

"Did I ever tell you about the time I got lost in the Natural History Museum during a blackout?" John asked. He looked down at their joined hands and smiled.

"No, you're remembering one of my stories," Sherlock corrected.

"No, I mean when I was a kid. It was when I was about ten years old and there was a really bad storm."

“If you’re going to go to all the trouble of stealing my memories and claiming them as your own, at least remember them correctly. Six, not ten."  
Sherlock looked at John, unamused. He could put up with John sensationalizing their adventures together, but to take credit for a childhood tale was going too far.

John blinked at Sherlock, confused. "What are you talking about? That happened to me. _You're_ the one claiming credit for _my_ story."

Sherlock had been prepared to let John's plagiarism slide until John had tried to stick to his story. But now he was prepared to taunt John with this for years to come. "Of the two of us, who is more likely to have a faulty memory? Just admit that you're wrong."

"No. No, I'm not wrong. And do you want to know how I know I’m not wrong? Because I remember the giant shadows cast by the dinosaur skeletons every time lightning struck. You would never remember something as... scenic as that."

"Obviously you're just imagining it from my description. You do have an overactive imagination," Sherlock said. It was becoming very interesting how influenced by him John's memory had become. "But, by all means, let's hear the rest of my tale. I will correct you when you get anything wrong," Sherlock mocked.

John was beginning to get very angry. Sherlock had probably realized he was wrong and was unwilling to admit it. At least there was no way that Sherlock could keep thinking the memory was his once John told his story. John thought back and tried to add as much detail as possible so that Sherlock couldn't possibly remain in doubt as to which of them this had really happened to.

"It was a weekday and a bit stormy out. I was excited to see the dinosaurs, so I tried to make my mum go straight to them, but we ended up going through the entire museum first. The mummies were really neat, but we didn't get to them until right before the power went out," John began.

"Wrong, we went to the mummies first. Also, I was with my nanny, not my mother, and it was a Tuesday," corrected Sherlock.

"Let me tell it," John griped. "Anyway, I guess the storm knocked out the power because just as we were leaving the mummies..."

"The whales," Sherlock interjected.

"The mummies. The lights went out and the room was pitch dark. My mum told me to take her hand and that we would try to find our way out carefully, but I really wanted to see the dinosaurs. Instead of taking her hand, I just snuck off. I kept bumping into people until I got into one of the larger corridors. There was a little bit of light from the windows, so I ran for it. I didn't mean to scare her, I just wanted to see the dinosaurs before we left.

"Every time lightning struck, the entire place lit up and everything in there cast really scary shadows. The farther I got from my mum, the less it seemed like a good idea, but I was almost there, so I kept going. When I got into the room with the dinosaur skeletons, there was no one in there and the lightning was happening more frequently and the thunder shook the building. I was so scared that I sat down and cried."

Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes. John glared at him and then continued.

"This little boy came out of nowhere and asked me why I was crying and I told him it was because I was lost and scared of the storm. He told me not to be scared and he took my hand and waited with me. I guess I should've been embarrassed about having to hold the hand of a little boy to stop crying, but I was really just grateful. Soon enough my mum found me and I don't really remember what happened to him, I guess I was just so relieved to have been found that I didn't pay attention."

"You've mixed it up," Sherlock amended. "You're telling the story from the wrong point of view. Yes, I ran to the dinosaurs, but I wasn't scared, I was hoping my nanny wouldn't find me and that I could live in the museum. When I got to the room with the skeletons there was an older boy crying. I thought it was foolish for an older boy to be crying, so I asked him why. He was scared of the storm, which was silly because it couldn't even hurt him, and I told him so. I took his hand until his nanny came and got him, then I went to hide in the toilet but Ms. Sarah found me and dragged me back home."

John sat staring at Sherlock in disbelief. His story was just off enough to make John question himself. Maybe he _was_ delusional. But no, he remembered the fear too vividly.  
"What color was the little boy's hair?" he asked.

"Pale blond," Sherlock answered.

"No, he had dark hair," John insisted.

John cocked his head as a wild thought occurred to him. "You don't think it's possible that this happened to both of us, do you?"

"John, the chances of that are more than a billion to one," Sherlock scoffed.

They never did figure out whose memory it was, and occasionally throughout the years together they would test each other on tiny details, always hoping but never quite believing they would figure out the truth.

*

On a stormy Tuesday in October of 1984, in London’s Natural History Museum, two young boys stood holding hands in the dark. A woman ran up and grabbed up her son in her arms and hugged him tightly. "I was so worried about you! John Hamish Watson, you do not run off, you'll give your mother a heart attack!"

She hugged him again tightly, then looked around for the stray little boy he had been standing with, but he was nowhere to be seen. She hoisted him more securely onto her hip and carried him to the exit.

Meanwhile in a side corridor, the other boy was just pushing open the door to the public toilet when his ear was pinched by an irate looking young woman.

"Sherlock, what have I told you about running off? What would I tell your mother if I lost you? I swear, you'll be the death of me!"

He tried to make a getaway, but she grabbed him, dragging him by the hand toward the exit.


	2. Psycho

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story in 50 words

Sherlock, in an attempt to prove he was aware of at least _some_ pop culture, demonstrated to John that he knew the famous theme music from Psycho by playing it on his violin. John wished Sherlock had not decided to demonstrate this to him without warning while John was showering.


	3. Greg's List

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg has an unhealthy (debatable) obsession with Sherlock and John's relationship status.

Greg keeps a list.

At first, he was very uncomfortable with the fact that he was keeping a list. It was a weird thing to do and it was none of his business, really. But when he stopped keeping a written list, he realized he was just keeping a list in his head, so really was writing it down that much weirder?

Eventually Greg just stopped thinking about how weird it was and it became something he just did.

 

> Aug 5th
> 
> John was pushed into the Thames and Sherlock jumped in after him.

 

> Aug 6th
> 
> When I opened my office door, they immediately backed away from each other in a hurry. Hugging?

 

> Nov 18th
> 
> Around midnight
> 
> John jumped in front of Sherlock as a human shield.

 

  
At first it was only the really big and obvious things that made it on the list. But it didn’t take long for the items to start getting more subtle.

 

> Jan. 26th,
> 
> 11:32am
> 
> Sherlock helped John into his coat.

 

> Noon-ish
> 
> John picked a hair off Sherlock’s sleeve. He looked at it and said it was Sherlock’s.

 

> Early evening, maybe 6:30
> 
> Sherlock ordered John food and allowed him a break to eat it.

 

> 3:16am
> 
> John’s fallen asleep with his head in a book. Sherlock just covered John with his coat as a blanket.

  
The first time Greg had barged in on 221B Baker Street unexpectedly and gained a bonus item on his list, it had genuinely been accidental. It had been a dire emergency, but it resulted in a very juicy item on his list. The second time he did this, it was once again out of necessity, but the thought of catching them off-guard had briefly crossed his mind enough to keep him from knocking.

Most of the times after that were completely premeditated. Some had good excuses, but others had the very flimsiest of excuses backing them.

 

> Feb 20th
> 
> Sherlock was lying on the sofa in just a thin dressing gown and pajama bottoms that were too short (John’s?) and John was in a towel. To be fair, John was in the shower when I arrived.

 

> April 2nd
> 
> Sherlock was walking around naked and John acted like it was a common occurrence!

 

  
Greg was not sure if he was just being a bit paranoid, but every once in awhile Sherlock would say something that had Greg freeze, terrified, sure that Sherlock knew. But then he never said anything directly and Greg would relax again. He knew he was playing with fire trying to keep something from Sherlock, but Greg was confident that even the great Sherlock Holmes would not be able to know all the tell-tale signs of someone keeping an obsessive list of times you and your flatmate do anything that hints at your possible relationship. To jump to that conclusion would be nuts.

 

> Jan 28th
> 
> John said something about needing a relationship and Sherlock said to check Craigslist but I swear he said Greg’s list. He did not glance over at me at all, though, so maybe I just heard wrong.

 

> May 7th
> 
> Sherlock was telling us about the potential killer, then he stopped and looked me in the eye and said "you'll want to write this list down." Does he know or am I overreacting?

  
Then, of course, there is the organizational system. Greg used to write them in a notebook, but he has switched to ringed binders so that he can move items around accordingly. The bonus, ill-gotten items he barged into 221B to get have a blue tab. The huge displays of love and devotion, such as attempted self-sacrifice, are the red tab. More domestic bliss items go under the green tab, and snippy little domestic disputes get the orange tab. The black tab is where Greg has exiled all the little suspicions that Sherlock knows about the list. Greg usually ignores this tab when he reads through his list.

The binder now lives under his bed, and he is now extremely careful not to leave it out ever since the time Sherlock barged in on him while Greg was making tea and the binder was open on the table. Sherlock probably didn’t have time to even get close enough to glance at the page it was open to, but Greg is not willing to take that sort of risk again. His only consolation is that the hints had already been popping up occasionally, every few months, and did not increase in frequency after Sherlock potentially spotted the list.  
Greg is not stupid, he knows Sherlock likely knows there is something going on. But unless Sherlock confronts him directly, he has no reason to stop. Well, no reason he's planning to listen to. Yeah, it’s their business, but can’t a man wonder in the privacy of his own home? So what if that wondering takes the form of a color coded organized binder?

Greg knows his hobby is weird, but it hasn’t stopped him yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to write something about Lestrade being increasingly obsessed with if Sherlock and John are together or not, then after mishearing "craigslist" I knew what needed to be done. I actually wrote this around when the second series was being filmed, I just never finished it. I am attempting to finish some of the millions of WIPs in my google drive, so bear with me here.


End file.
